XV
With the coming of the furniture and the furnishing of the office, my hands were full for the next week. During the time, Mr. Ewart was in Ottawa on business, and I worked like a Trojan to have everything in readiness on his return. I was determined he should be the first to see the transformation of his special room, and forbade Jamie to open the door so much as a crack that might afford him a peep.
"It does n't seem much like the manor with Ewart away and you invisible except at meals," he growled from the arm-chair he had placed just outside the sill of the office door. He begged me to leave the door open just a little way, enough to enable him to have speech with me—a privilege I granted, but reluctantly, for I was putting the books on the shelves and giving the task my whole attention. The last day of the week was with us, and Mr. Ewart was expected in a few hours. I stopped long enough, however, to peep at him through the inch-wide opening. He was drawing away at a cold pipe and looked wholly disconsolate.
"A new version of Omar Khayyàm," I said.
"'A pipe, you know ... and Thou
Beside me, chatting in the wilderness.'"
"I suppose you 'll let me in when Ewart comes."
"I 've nothing to say about that; it is n't my den."
"I was under the impression it was wholly yours, judging from your possession of it."
"Now, no sarcasm, Jamie Macleod; work is work, and there 's been a lot to do in here—not but what I 've taken solid comfort in putting this room into shape."
"Oh, yes, we have seen that; even Cale remarked to me the other night that he 'guessed' Mr. Ewart knew a good thing when he saw it, as he had a general furnisher and library assistant all in one, who was working for his interest about as hard as she could."
"Good for Cale, he is a discerning person. But he seems to be following suit pretty closely along his lines."
"I hear you 're to catalogue the books that are in the den."
"That is my order."
"Don't you want me to help you? Old French is n't so easy sometimes," he asked, coaxing.
"Oh, no; I 've help enough in Mr. Ewart. He knows it a good deal better than you do."
"'Sass'," was Jamie's sole reply, a word he had borrowed from Cale's vocabulary; he used it to characterize my attitude towards his acquirements.
I worked on in silence till the books were housed; then I drew a long breath of satisfaction.
"What's that sigh for?" was the demand from the other side of the door.
"For a noble deed accomplished, my friend."
"Humph!"
"Now move away your chair, I 'm coming out."
"Come on."
There was no movement of the chair, and, to punish him, I locked the door on the inside and went out through the kitchen up to my room.
I recall that afternoon: the heavy first-of-December skies; the gray-black look on the hemlocks; the faded trunks of the lindens; the dullness of the unreflecting snow; the intermittent soughing of the wind in the pines. All without looked drear, jaded, almost lifeless; the cold was penetrating. I determined that all within should be bright with home cheer on the master's return. Did he not say I had made a home of the old manor?
I recall dressing myself with unusual care and wishing I had some light-colored gown to help brighten the interior for him.
For him! I was looking in the mirror and coiling my hair when I realized my thought; to my amazement my own face seemed to me almost the face of a stranger. I saw that its thin oval had rounded, the cheeks gained a faint color; animation was in every feature, life anticipant in the eyes.
"That's what the change has done so soon; pure air, home life, good food and an abundance of it."
I failed to read the first sign.
There was nothing for it but to put on the well-worn skirt of brown panama serge, a clean shirt waist and a white four-in-hand. I promised myself not only a warm coat out of the first month's wages, but a light-colored inexpensive dress that would harmonize with the general feeling of youthfulness of which my inner woman was now aware. I sat down at the window to wait for the sound of the pung bells. Soon there was a soft tap at my door.
"Come in." Jamie made his appearance with a bunch of partridge berries in his hand.
"With Cale's compliments; he found them under the snow in the woods, and hopes you will do him the honor to wear them in your hair. He left them with me just before he went to meet Ewart; I had them under the arm-chair to present to you formally when you should come out of the den; instead of which, you ignominiously—"
"Please, don't, Jamie—no coals of fire; give me the lovely things."
"But, remember, you are to wear them in your hair, so Cale says."
"It's perfectly absurd—but I must do it to please him. Who would credit him with such an attention?"
"May I stay while you put them in?" he asked meekly.
"Of course you may, you sisterless youth."
I parted the bunch, and pinned a spray on each side, in the coils and plaits of my over heavy hair. Jamie said nothing till this finishing touch had been put to my toilet.
"I say, it's ripping, Marcia. Cale will be your abject slave from henceforth. By the way, I 've never heard him call you 'Happy', as he proposed to do."
"Nor I."
"I wonder what's the reason? Perhaps he thought he had been too fresh, and he does n't dare—There 's Ewart!" He was off on a run.
I thought I would wait for the various greetings to be over before going down. I felt sure I should not see his hand withdrawn this time, as on the occasion of his first home-coming. When I heard his voice below in the hall, I was aware of a warm thrill of delight, a joyous expectancy of good, a feeling as if the home-coming were my own; for never in my life had I been welcomed as he was, with a shout from Jamie, an outburst from the dogs, and joyful ejaculations from Angélique and Marie.
I went down, my cheeks glowing, my heart warm with the home-sense, and—I wondered at myself—my hand outstretched to his. When his closed upon it with the same cordial pressure of the week before, I knew for the first time in my life the joy of being "at home".
And I failed to read the second sign.